


Warmth

by Ahsim



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Fluffy, M/M, Romance, nsfw ish because half-naked men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahsim/pseuds/Ahsim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Five more minutes,” he muttered.  Heero chuckled.  “It’s Christmas.  You don’t want five more minutes.”</p><p>Heero rises to the challenge of making this Christmas particularly memorable for Trowa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> (I will change that title...)
> 
> A (slightly belated) Christmas drabble because I needed something sweet and romantic. 
> 
> Wasn't totally sure how to rate this because half-naked men and some heavy kissing but nothing explicit. 
> 
> Pardon for any typos, misspellings, or grammatical errors. This is not beta-d.

This, Heero decided, was how Christmas should be spent.  No parties.  No traveling.  Just him and his lover and every electronic device they owned turned off, unplugged, and packed away (minus the house phone, but only the truly desperate—and Catherine—would bother with their house phone).  Of course, with Trowa still in bed, the holiday wasn’t quite ideal yet, but it was only seven in the morning.  They had plenty of time, and Heero loathed waking him up just yet.

Because there had been parties, and there would be traveling, and as much as Trowa loved the holiday—with a quiet but deep passion that easily rivaled Duo’s overt exuberance—it was still exhausting for him, and if Trowa didn’t get some sleep and some silence, they were going to have the same issues as last year.

Heero knew that Trowa didn’t want a repeat of last year.

The holiday parties were almost impossible to miss, for one reason or another.  The Preventers’ was a matter of office relations: a quiet acknowledgement that yes, they did enjoy their coworkers and wished them well, despite some memorable moments (no one was quite sure which was better, Wufei’s thirty-minute lecture on computer safety after someone downloaded an almost fatal Trojan, or Trowa’s sudden outburst that he oversaw overgrown toddlers disguised as espionage).  And the Preventer Christmas party was entertaining.  At the very least amusing, in no small part thanks to Duo, who always included something the former pilots would find particularly entertaining into the evening. 

This year, it had been a shooting competition with suction-dart guns.  Even after a few glasses of wine, Trowa had shown up most everyone—and then caught Williams in the forehead with a dart when the man cried foul.  He shared the bottle of bourbon he won with Williams as an apology.

Attending Relena’s Christmas party, however, was more of a matter of sentiment.  Relena’s schedule, and the demands of their work, kept them all from seeing the young and promising politician often.  Heero knew that she looked forward to seeing them with a warm, almost familial fondness.  Disappointing her was out of the question.  And of course, after everything that happened with Mariemaia Kushrenada…  It was better to be around her for at least a little while during the holidays.

Besides, displays of solidarity and strength were important in the political world.  And nothing was stronger than having five pilots (with full permission to carry) as honored guests at your most prestigious event. 

The holiday parties were important.  They enjoyed them, more or less.  They were, however, often poorly timed.  Last year had been the worse.  Much worse; Relena’s party and the Preventers’ had been on the same night, and their flight to the house Quatre had rented for the five of them had been bright and early the very next morning.  All five of them arrived for their private retreat more than a little short.  Trowa’s temper, however, had lasted almost the entire week, and it nearly crushed him.    

This year was much more manageable.  Duo had leaked the Preventers’ party date to Relena almost two months early.  Her party had been on Christmas Eve (a little risky, perhaps, but she had made a point of encouraging guests to bring their families).  The Preventers’ had been on the twenty-first, and Duo had made the event as solstice-themed as possible (apparently, he couldn’t find suction-dart bows with a long enough range).  And Quatre had brilliantly decided to push their trip back a week.  The five of them would spend the last few days of December, and the New Year, in a quiet beach house on the shores of North Carolina.   It was apparently quite beautiful.

The shuttle for North Carolina was on the twenty-eighth, and the holiday parties (for Heero and Trowa anyway) had ended last night, which meant that they now had four days.  Four full days together, alone, with only the most minor and necessary interruptions.  That had to be more than enough time for Trowa to recuperate from the overdose of socializing.  And if it wasn’t, well, Heero knew of quite a few ways to help the process.

He supposed he should start now.  Trowa could always nap later. 

Heero sat back on his heels and slid the poker back into its cast-iron stand.  The fireplace had been Trowa’s idea, and their first house project together after Heero had moved into the rancher.  Trowa had always wanted one, and Heero would admit that he could see the appeal.  Trowa had been itching to use it since October, but autumn had been long and mild this year.  Recently, though, there had been a cold snap, and last night, it had finally snowed.  The house was chilly, the air crisp.  But as the fire strengthened, the house took on a warm, earthy smell that Heero had come to associate with sunlight and heat and his lover’s need for both.  Heero smiled.  By the time he managed to convince Trowa to leave his bed, the living room would be absolutely pleasant.

He stood and brushed off some ash and dust before reaching down to straighten the comforter he had laid out.  It was a thick down one, relegated to a spare because Heero couldn’t handle having it in bed; he overheated the one time they used it and had needed a long, cold bath.  It was perfect for padding, though, which was good because lying on a wood floor wasn’t particularly comfortable.  Heero straightened the corners and checked to make sure none of his surprises had been upset during the shifting before heading back to the bedroom.

The hardwood floor was still fairly new (barely a year old, actually, since Trowa started installing it right after buying the house) but Heero still minded his steps.  He shouldn’t have bothered; Trowa hadn’t moved at all, and didn’t seem inclined to move anytime soon.  He was a long, narrow bundle near the center of the bed, his head and feet almost entirely obscured by the blanket cocoon he had made in his sleep.  Heero wondered, not for the first time, how Trowa could stand it.  Yes it had to be warm, but it also had to be suffocating.  And if he happened to have a nightmare.

_No chance of that this morning._

Heero crawled onto the bed.  He let the mattress dip as it would, rocking Trowa gently.  Trowa didn’t even twitch.  It wasn’t until Heero was stretched out at his back and peeling away the corner of the blanket that Trowa started to shift.  Trowa curled forward as Heero tugged the blanket away.  The noise he made, though, when Heero kissed his cheek, was sleepy and pleased. 

“Five more minutes,” he muttered. 

Heero chuckled.  “It’s Christmas.  You don’t want five more minutes.”

“Yes I do.”

“You say that now, but in an hour, you’ll be mad I gave you those ‘five minutes’.” 

Trowa curled forward, shaking his head into the blanket.  “Will not.”

“Alright,” Heero sighed.  “Five minutes.”  Trowa made a noise and pressed back against him before settling again in his cocoon.  Heero waited for almost a minute before sitting up and reaching underneath him. 

Carrying Trowa was always a bit of a challenge, what with the inches he had on Heero.  Today was even more complicated because Trowa’s arms were wrapped in blanket instead of wrapping around his neck.  Heero managed, but not before nearly dropping Trowa as he tried to get out of the bed. 

The noise Trowa made was almost a squeak.  “What happened to my five minutes?” 

“You can have them, just not here.”

Trowa made a point of tugging down the blanket so he could frown at him.  Heero kissed him lightly.

“Merry Christmas,” he said against Trowa’s mouth.  It took a very long ten seconds before Trowa smiled and tugged at his lower lip softly.

“Merry Christmas.”

Trowa was mostly awake—it never took him long to go from groggy to alert—by the time Heero got them both back to the living room.  Trowa took in the blanket in front of the fireplace, and the champagne bucket near it, and the glasses near that, with quiet interest.  

“Isn’t it a little early for toasting,” he asked as Heero knelt on the blanket. 

“It’s Christmas.”  Trowa snorted.  Heero smiled, more than aware that it was the exact same excuse Trowa used to get away with eating cookies at seven in the morning.  Heero constantly teased him over it, even though it was a holiday (and innocent, and endearing) habit.  “I’ll let you have a whole plate of cookies with it.” 

“Chocolate would go better with—is that wine?” 

“A very good Merlot, I think.”  

Trowa’s eyes narrowed.  “You don’t like wine.” 

“I don’t ‘appreciate’ wine,” Heero corrected.  “Quatre, however, does and this is from him and it’s actually not that bad.” 

Trowa smiled.  It was just a small lift at the corners of his mouth, but—and perhaps it was just the warm play of the fire’s reds and golds—it made Trowa glow.  He wriggled in his cocoon until his arms were free.  The blanket slid off his chest as he reached up and wrapped his arms around Heero’s bare shoulders.  Trowa’s fingers teased at the hair on the nape of Heero’s neck.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to do this,” Heero said.

“I, I was not quite this thoughtful.  With your gifts,” Trowa admitted.  Heero smiled.  He sincerely doubted that.  Trowa took extreme care when it came to the selection of gifts.  Whatever he had decided to get Heero would be not only thoughtful but also a silent comment on his feelings and their relationship.

Trowa tended to gravitate towards jewelry and the tastefully ornate.  Heero was very fond of the bracelet Trowa had gotten him for his birthday and was prepared for something that would match it, although he was going to laugh it ended up in the same box as a glock again (Trowa also saw great value in the practical).  

Heero could use a new knife, though. 

He leaned forward and kissed the soft blush spreading across Trowa’s cheeks.  “You think all this is just for you?”  Trowa laughed. 

“I stand corrected,” he said simply.  Trowa shifted in Heero’s lap and started to fall back.  His arms tightened around Heero’s neck to bring him down with him.  Heero braced them both with an arm, so the fall wasn’t too rough.

Both of them slept in little: Heero because he would overheat in anything more than sweatpants and a sheet; Trowa because shirts were somehow constricting in bed, and because he was warmer than any blanket apparently.  Heero stretched out over Trowa, letting out a rumbling purr as Trowa arched into his warm chest.  He ran his fingers into Trowa’s hair, breaking the last of the wax’s hold and smiling as Trowa’s soft hair slid down around his face and neck.  Trowa puffed at a strand that landed across his nose.  It popped up, paused, and then fell stubbornly over the bridge of his nose again.  Heero brushed it back before pressing his lips against Trowa’s.  Trowa’s parted almost immediately at his touch.

Trowa tasted of sleep, with a little bit of last night’s champagne and dessert, and a touch of the mint of his toothpaste, mixed in.  It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it wasn’t awful either.  Then Trowa ran his tongue along Heero’s and then the roof of his mouth, and Heero forgot about the taste entirely.  Trowa’s mouth was hot, his tongue smooth, and he kissed with slow, distracting passion, tugging at Heero’s lips with teeth and soft, slightly chewed lips in turn.  They had kissed more than a lot in the months—near years—that they had been together, but it was still dizzying. 

But Heero wouldn’t be fully distracted this time.

He let Trowa lead the kiss as he liked, which made Trowa growl deep in his throat.  Heero’s fingers slid slowly out Trowa’s hair and traced them down his neck.  Trowa shivered as they skated over his collarbone and started down his torso.  Heero walked his fingers down the lean lines, stopping at the ribs.  Heero stroked lightly; Trowa would always be skinny but now that he was eating regularly—and no matter what Trowa said, Heero would _not_ consider supplements “food”—his bones weren’t pressing quite as hard against his skin.  Trowa jerked under him as Heero’s fingers found a sensitive spot. 

It usually took Trowa quite a long time to come down from tickle-inspired hysterics.  Heero normally never missed an opportunity to make him laugh, but now would not be appropriate.  Heero’s fingers drifted towards Trowa’s wrist.  They wrapped around the thin limb easily.  Trowa pushed into his hand, purring and arching as Heero tightened his grip.  He broke the kiss to sigh, his head turning a bit.  Heero pressed their cheeks together for a moment before nipping at his jaw. 

Heero’s name slid out of Trowa’s mouth like a sweet curse.

He had had months to learn all of Trowa’s favorite spots, and which sensation worked best for each.  Heero exploited that knowledge now: sucking at the underside of his jaw, dragging his tongue down the hard muscles of his throat, scrapping his teeth against the soft skin that connected shoulder and neck.  Trowa melted beneath him.  His fingers dug into Heero’s back.  His long legs shifted, his feet drifting up Heero’s calves, his toes curling into the supple denim and tugging.  Heero sucked at the skin in his mouth.  Trowa tensed and swore.  Heero tugged Trowa’s wrist towards his head. 

Trowa brought the other up on his own accord.  Heero give the skin he had bitten a soft lick before sitting back.  Trowa watched him through his lashes, smiling that small, hardly-innocent-but-totally-trusting smile.  He flexed his fingers.  Heero leaned down and kissed him sweetly. 

And then, with a speed and precision he had honed through far different circumstances, Heero snagged a box from beneath the corner of the blanket and pressed it into Trowa’s hand.    

Trowa’s eyes widened only a little, flicking to the box.  It fit firmly in the palm of his hand.  He turned it over with quick fingers.  He turned slightly from the kiss and regarded it curiously. 

“What’s this,” he asked, voice surprisingly steady even after the kissing. 

“A present that _is_ just for you.” 

Trowa shifted.  Heero sat back immediately, balancing himself carefully on Trowa’s thighs.  He watched Trowa sit up slowly, gracefully, and examine the box with peculiar attention.  He ran his fingers over the black velvet surface, thumbed the small silver hinge, and guided his thumbnail along the seam as if he couldn’t quite understand its purpose.  

Then Trowa opened it.  Heero was comforted by the fact that Trowa didn’t drop it or snap it shut, but not by much.  The tension in Trowa’s face was unsettling.  

He should have asked, but he had been afraid.  Trowa valued his autonomy more than anything, or, as Heero had hoped, almost more than anything.  Heero would never ask him to give that up, but he was asking Trowa to share it more with him.  

He should have asked.  Mentioned it in passing at the least.  _Too late now._  

Trowa lifted his eyes.  They were expressionless except for small seams that had appeared just the corners of them, near his nose.  Confusion.  Concern.  And something Heero couldn’t name.

“What does this mean,” he asked softly.  Heero managed to turn a flinch into a shrug but not very well. 

His voice at least was steady, if not a little cold.  “It means whatever you’d like it to mean.”

Trowa’s mouth thinned.  He looked again at the open box.  Heero sighed; he should have _asked_.  He shifted further back on Trowa’s legs. 

Trowa’s hand settled on his shoulder.  He leaned close, until his forehead rested against Heero’s and the soft green of his eyes, flecked with emerald and gold, took up most of Heero’s vision.  But Heero didn’t miss the way Trowa cupped the box against his chest. 

“What do you want it to mean?” 

Heero swallowed.  He brought his hands up Trowa’s shoulders and into his hair, lacing them behind his head.  “I wanted a pair, because, because traditionally they come in pairs.  But they would have had to make the second one, and I didn’t want to wait.  So I want it to be an—” 

Trowa cut him off.  His mouth pressed hard against Heero’s, their teeth clacking in a way that they hadn’t since they first kissed in Heero’s apartment.  Trowa’s hand grasped the back of Heero’s neck.  Heero clutched and tugged at Trowa’s hair, twisting his tongue with Trowa’s.  They panted when they pulled apart. 

“Something small and intimate,” Trowa asked through his gasps.  Heero nodded. 

“Ten, maybe twenty people at most.  On a beach?”

“Sunset, or sunrise.  I have to tell Catherine.” 

“House phone’s still plugged in.”  Trowa snorted. 

“I didn’t mean now.  I have more important things right now.”  Trowa gave his head a shake, dislodging Heero’s fingers.  Heero reached for him again, until he saw Trowa untuck the box from his chest.  He pulled out the ring with careful fingers.  Trowa handed it to Heero without thought, holding out his left hand with a small, playful smile. 

The artfully twisted silver band fit perfectly.      

“They will notice,” Trowa warned as he ran his thumb over it. 

“Good." 

Trowa smiled and wrapped his arms around his neck.  “Duo will notice.  Duo will be _ecstatic_.”  Heero nosed at the skin behind Trowa’s ear and smiled as Trowa pressed closer.

“Good for him, not as much as me.” 

“He will want to help.” 

“He’s good at party planning.” 

“He will insist on a dress.” 

Heero snorted.  “Maybe, but only if you wear it.  I don’t have the legs for it.” 

The noise Trowa made was startling.  Heero pulled back to stare.  The look crossing Trowa’s face was nothing short of sinful.  

“Would you like that,” he asked, perfectly casual.  Trowa’s tongue swept slowly over his lips.

 _This could be a very short marriage_ , Heero thought.  He grinned as the image settled firmly in his mind.  Heero let his hands fall from Trowa’s hair and wrap around his waist. 

“Maybe that night,” he admitted. 

Trowa’s grip slackened.  He fell back onto the comforter with a soft grunt, hands again besides his face.  The reds and golds of the firelight slid over him in a soft, curling glow.  Heero slid over him.  Their fingers laced. 

The ring was warm already against his skin.  

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, you just need something sweet and romantic and they need to get married okay? 
> 
> And now to return to Chains.


End file.
